His headphones fit in ears that haven’t listened for years I spend most of my time looking down at my phone which is marginally better than feeling alone mass communication has fulled our isolation once love was a rocket now we only connect at the USB socket
Time skips in between screen time emptiness Mind's fuzzy with the traffic sounds Eyes blinded by the flashing lights Hands struggle to reach something pleasurable, at least, As the heart beats excited for the minute-lasting serotonin blast
The hair grows an inch each week, The numbness comes in days and leaves for a couple hours by bits, The blood's rage meets the grinning face of guilt, And the will to change is temporary.
What will it be when I'm 70? What will change in me? What will it be like when I'm not me? And if I'm not me, who else should I be? Why should I care for the fate of the world? Why can't I be cozy for 20 years and die alone, slowly? Why do I have to get up in the first place? Why do I have to belong to the human race? Racing indefinitely Pretending to wear the shield of bravery for someone else's dream-****-like-fantasy,
What are all these brands and all these bands of crows? Eating fleshless people with money for bones Why is the circus always in town? Why does the TV lie? Why does the Internet lie? Why do the people who run our money lie? Why do the people who run us lie? Why is it all so fake and sly? What is all this bellyful hunger?
What is it that I can't grasp? Is our nature really all that nefast? If this is peak humanity, why should it last?
the immersion in media i feel weaponized part of an inhuman condition a heated communal militia head space gilded with fear but splintered of opinions sperming in a holding pattern like fish in a overpopulated aquarium we're stunning ourselves on the sides batting at it to for an expansion frenzy of communication but other life continues seemingly untainted indifferent certainly see ! the birds aviate and i feel there is reassurance the worlds life will outlast us what's the worst that we could do ? we'll not be taking it to our grave ; a pharaoh tombed with ornamental company
please-please add your waxy scrolls truths to the panic pyre madden an inflamed swarm of intelligence worm warrens into the collective of our brain maybe having been riddled it'll collapse under the corrective strain and start blinking a genuine signal process recognized compassionate inkling